


every second, every minute

by tagteamme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith, Alpha Prime Shiro, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stress Relief, author tried hard to think of witty tags but this is just 1.6k of boning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 17:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tagteamme/pseuds/tagteamme
Summary: Keith is a simple man at heart who, upon hearing that his husband had been having a rough day, had decided to help him out the way he knew best. And that was to herd him into their quarters before dinner, throw him onto the bed, and crawl into his lap while pawing at his uniform.The simple things.





	every second, every minute

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the great most glorious [slouph](http://slouph.tumblr.com/), one of the finest purveyors of sheith thirst of our time...

Keith's fairly stubborn, fairly one track minded. He's got the right, unparalleled blend of determination and pragmatism that’s part innate and part honed and it's not hard to see why others listen so easily to him.

The only one that can pierce through any of this is Shiro. Shiro with his kind smile and intimidating figure and powerful voice that can bring anyone to their knees, get anyone to bare their neck for him, even if they too are an alpha. Shiro, who stands by Keith's side proudly in public, and uses all these things to get him wet and wanting in private.

“Good, baby?” Shiro's voice is rough and deep and commands Keith to his core. The hand around Keith is moving so rapidly that Keith's abdomen curls involuntarily, his whole body shuddering as it struggles to hold itself up.

The hand drops him and goes back to where it had been previously sitting on his hip— this had been an interlude, of all things. Shiro claiming he’s calming him down by jerking him off before he goes back to snapping his hips up into Keith, rough and possessive. The next thrust rips a low moan from Keith's throat, one that's matched by the guttural way Shiro says his name.

He's supposed to be the one taking Shiro apart. And at the core of it, he is. Shiro has been tense like a bowstring all day, a furrow making itself at home in his brow. He hadn't snapped at anyone, but his voice had been so dry by the end of the day that by the time Keith returned from running drills with the other Paladins, everyone on the ground had been giving Shiro a wide berth.

Keith is a simple man at heart who, upon hearing that his husband had been having a rough day, decided to help him out the way he knew best. And that was to herd him into their quarters before dinner, throw him onto the bed, and crawl into his lap while pawing at his uniform. The simple things.

Keith had pressed Shiro’s wrists down into the mattress over his head after a long and heady kiss that had left them both breathless. Shiro hadn’t even made his usual half-hearted false complaint that people would come looking for them if they didn’t show up to the canteen.

“You have to keep them there,” he had whispered into Shiro’s ear before nipping at it and sitting back. Shiro likes control, and Keith _knows_ what that kind of command does to him— it left Shiro torn between wanting to ignore Keith and take over, or proving that he truly does have ironclad self-restraint.  Either way, it’s Keith that always enjoys the reward.

Shiro had lasted while Keith had straddled his lap and put on a show, opening himself up on his fingers. He took his time through it, had told Shiro innocently that he heard he had a bad day and he just wanted to give him something nice to look at. It makes Shiro hungry when Keith puts himself on display like that, because he knows Keith only does it for Shiro, has only ever done it for Shiro.

Keith had brought himself to a soft finish, spilling over Shiro’s stomach as he said his name and bared his neck to him. Shiro had stayed hard throughout, knuckles white and arms twitching as he strained to keep his hands in place. He had almost held onto his self-control. Almost. He had held onto it until Keith had started to shift off of him, had said something about leaving for a shower and a dinner. Keith's real intention, if Shiro did not take the bait, had been to prop Shiro's legs over his shoulders and give him one hell of a blow job. Thankfully Shiro did.

Shiro had snapped and grabbed Keith by the hips, yanking him back on top of him with a “Are you sure you want to leave it here?” in a coarse and predatory voice that had Keith stirring again, fast. Shiro let go of his own control in exchange for Keith’s, and Keith had happily given it up, had happily allowed Shiro to slide his fingers in him to open him up properly.  He had thought Shiro would have thrown him onto his front and hiked his hips up, but Shiro had been too impatient even for that.

And now they’re here, Shiro working into him relentlessly, pressing bruises into the meat of his hips with his large fingers as he fills Keith up. Keith digs his fingers into his own thighs as he’s held up, remembering Shiro’s command. He had enough fun touching himself, Shiro had told him as he had pressed in initially, hot and heavy and wanting, but he isn't allowed to touch either Shiro or himself. Not until he's given permission.

So Keith lets himself get taken apart, helpless to the way Shiro rolls into him, helpless to the praise he pours over Keith. It's a steady stream of _fuck, baby, baby, you take it so fucking good, so fucking wet for me,_ that has Keith's toes curling. He wants to touch, wants to plant his hands on Shiro's broad chest and ride him for all he's worth, wants to leave little claw marks down his front that will sting in the shower. He wants to bite into the thick neck, mark him, show him off as claimed even though everyone already knows they belong to each other.

“Shiro,” it comes out broken, comes out wet and begging and Keith can feel Shiro shake under him. They're both close, but Keith's not allowed to tip over until he's told. “Please, I'm—”

“Not yet,” Shiro grits out, and there's no pet name tacked onto the end. The primal tone makes Keith's leg shake, and he chokes out Shiro's name again.

Keith swears loudly as he feels the familiar swell and it dissolves into a moan. This part is never easy, but it feels so, _so_ good that he wishes he wasn't born an alpha, just so that he could take it slick and easy and over and over again. The thought washes over him, the thought of being on his back with his legs hooked over Shiro's arms as Shiro claims him thoroughly without a second thought, completely wet and pliant as Shiro marks him from the inside out, thrusting into him so hard that Keith's vision is never fully clear.

But to Shiro's credit, he does the latter with Keith already. He can't put a baby in him, but he likes to fuck Keith like they're trying, likes to lay claim to Keith thoroughly in a way that only he can, likes to make him feel like he _is_ going through a heat. Shiro can make anyone come undone if he tilts his voice right, if he straightens his back and postures like he's taller. He's prime, he's big and commanding, and it's Keith that he chooses to pick apart, it's Keith who he's decided to leave a mating mark on, dark and prominent in the crook of his neck.

“Touch me,” the command is short but serves as a gut punch to Keith, and he falls forward immediately, eager to touch. His hands scrabble across the expanse of Shiro's chest, trying to feel out as much skin as possible while he crushes his lips forward in a desperate kiss. Shiro laughs into it as he plants his feet on the mattress and grinds up into Keith, and squeezes his base.

“Is this what you wanted?” Shiro says, low, and Keith frantically nods because this is all he's ever wanted, this is all he'll ever want. Shiro lets go and jerks Keith off rapidly, and Keith can feel hot tears prickle the corners of his eyes as tension curls in a tight coil low in his gut. He's so close, _so_ close to the edge, he just needs a—

“Come for me,” Shiro says in _that_ voice, that one he can use to get anyone to do his bidding, and Keith feels himself breaking immediately, choking in a shout as he comes hard. His vision whites out as Shiro uses his hands to make Keith ride through it, to pull Keith down and push his hips up so that the angle is just right for Keith to feel oversensitive.

Keith can feel himself swell in Shiro's hand, and gives one weak stuttering thrust before he fully collapses, completely spent. He registers Shiro sliding a soothing hand over his back before he gently turns them on to their side. They only have a few minutes till they're not locked together anymore, and Keith shivers when he thinks about how messy it'll be when Shiro finally slides out. He can tell that Shiro will be noble at first, trying to help him clean up, but will get inspired enough when he touches Keith to start another round. Keith's going to make sure of it. Shiro keeps running his hand over Keith's back, and leans in to steal a kiss.

“Good?” Shiro murmurs against his mouth, and Keith frowns before he nips at Shiro's bottom lip.

“I'm supposed to be asking you that,” Keith says. “I heard you had a bad day.”

“Yeah?” Shiro draws back and raises an eyebrow. “From whom?”

“Everyone,” Keith shrugs and yawns. “I thought I was supposed to be the temperamental one.”

His stomach grumbles in between them, and Keith wonders if they can sneak some leftovers in from the kitchen. Shiro laughs and draws Keith closer. They're sweaty and radiating heat, but Keith still makes a satisfied sound when he gets to bury his nose into Shiro's neck and take a deep inhale.

“Doesn't matter,” Shiro murmurs into his hair, scratching his scalp and rubbing his fingers in circles. “You're with me now.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is from poetic justice by kendrick lamar and [REDACTED]!! 
> 
> come say hi on [tumblr](http://phaltu.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tagteamme)!!


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